


Stiles's Punishment

by ReadingFan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Dubious Consent, Figging, M/M, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadingFan/pseuds/ReadingFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stiles's is finally free from the Nogitsune he struggles to cope with the aftermath and ends up starting a BDSM relationship with Peter, but Stiles has been naughty and Peter is about to punish him. Stiles had a feeling that he wasn't going to enjoy this visit from Peter as much as he has the others and he is proven to be right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles's Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! and if you do don't forget to leave a kudos i'll be sooooo grateful :) don't hesitate to comment either.

I don’t know how long I’ve been kneeling here. Time always seems to drag when I have to do this, but tonight he’s making me wait longer. At least I think he is, my mounting fear could be making time crawl. My knees ache but the pain is secondary to my rising panic, I shouldn’t have provoked him, I knew there would be consequences, but he hadn’t been around for over a week and I _needed_. God how I needed it, the pain, the release,even the fear. I was tempted to break the rules and check the time, to see how long I’ve been kneeling here, naked, ass on my heels, back straight, head and eyes tilted towards the floor, arms leaning on my thighs with my palms facing upwards, but to do that would anger him further.

The waiting is a relatively new thing for us, he used to tell me at the end of our meetings when he would be coming again, I liked that, it meant I always knew when to expect him, now he texts me a warning whenever he wants. From the moment I get the text I’m expected to strip and get in position. I never know how long I’ll have to wait before he comes, he always varies the times. The dread I feel is normal, at first I always fear the pain he will give me, always fear the relinquishing of control, but this time it’s different because now I’m going to be punished. Thinking of the things he’s done to me, thinking how those weren’t considered a punishment… I can’t imagine what I’m about to face. I’m terrified. Trying to control my breathing and stop myself from trembling I can’t help but wonder how the hell I’ve come to this, waiting here for Peter Hale to come and hurt me.

It was an accident really, after the Nogitsune I didn’t feel like myself , I went through times where I panicked that I wasn’t , that it was all another joke from the Nogitsune and he would just take control again laughing at how we believed we had beaten him. There were times where I felt unsure whether what was happening was real, times where I questioned every decision I made, wondering whether it was my own. Above all there was the guilt. The guilt was an all-consuming thing , I was drowning in it , it didn’t matter what everyone said, I know that it wasn’t me, that I had no control , but I was there , I saw _myself_ do all those things. Allison is dead and I don’t get how Scott can even stand to look at me, I know I can’t, I only give cursory glances in mirrors nowadays. I tried to make it look like I was keeping it together and I think they believed me, but I was falling apart. That is I was until Peter.

I don’t remember what we were talking about, or even how we ended up alone in Derek’s loft but I had said something to him that pissed him off and I soon found myself being shoved up against the wall with Peter snarling in my face. I didn’t understand my reaction, but the way I was immobilized against that wall, the danger, the threat of pain, it made me whimper. Except it wasn’t a fearful whimper that made its way past my lips, at least not entirely, it was a sound filled with want, need, I just didn’t know what I needed. Peter though…somehow …he knew. He seemed to freeze for a moment, he stared at me with those intense eyes of his, studying me, I felt like he could see inside of me, right to my core, see how fucked up I was. I opened my mouth to say I don’t know what when suddenly, without a word, Peter spun me around and jammed me up against the wall with enough force to push the air out of my lungs. He then put one hand on my hip holding me tight enough to bruise, and the other he moved to the small space between my groin and the wall and started working at my zipper.

By the time I had caught my breath back and started to struggle to get away he had my zipper undone and was pushing my jeans and underwear down to my knees.

“Peter wha-”

“Shush now boy, just let it happen” Despite his strangely comforting voice I renewed my struggles and he moved his one hand to my neck, smashing my face tight sideways to the wall and used the hand at my hip to move my legs back a bit, making it so I was partially bent at the waist with my ass sticking out. Panic began to overwhelm me then and I started to make pathetic plaintive noises in the back of my throat thinking about what that position could mean. He then moved the hand from my neck to grab my arms at the wrists and immobilized them at my lower back. I could then feel his hand move from my hip, but before I could use the new freedom to try to get away, he suddenly brought his hand down on the middle of my ass. Hard. The smack brought a fiery stinging pain that, for a moment, blanked my mind. Gasping I tried to kick my legs back but I didn’t manage to hit anything.

“Stop now, the sooner you relax into it the better” Not really hearing his words through the blood that was rushing in my ears I simply continued to struggle. He brought his hand down again, this time a little lower, but just as hard as the first, and the pain fired up anew. Yelping I tried to move my hands to rub at my already burning ass but Peter’s grip was to strong, and I simply managed to make my wrists ache. I had no idea a spanking could hurt that much.

The third smack was on the bottom of my ass and the top of my thighs, and this time the pain caused me to cry out, and tears started to fill my eyes.

“P-Peter please pl-” my begging was cut off when I released a shout of pain from the fourth smack, the sound of which echoed in the room. This smack was concentrated on my left ass cheek and the fifth was quick to follow on my right. He started to spank me in earnest then, I hardly had time to cry out from a smack before another was delivered, I lost count on the twenty forth and by then I was a shaking, sobbing mess, and my ass was a ball of throbbing, stinging pain. I stopped struggling then, knowing I couldn’t get away, my body just went limp and I let my tears fall and my shoulders shake and resigned myself to what was happening.

“That’s it Stiles, Good boy” Something strange happened then, Peter took a break from spanking me to rub my ass and the bright pain this ignited soon dissipated to a burn that made me moan, not in pain but in pleasure. Shocked and confused, but too exhausted to fight it, when the next smack came down I arched my ass out to meet it. The pain was an awful burning sting just like the others at first but then it settled into my skin and it felt _good_. In fact my whole body began to feel alive, the slight pain in my wrists from Peter’s strong grasp, the small ache in my hip where Peter had held me earlier, and the agony in my ass all seemed to melt into pleasure and my dick began to fill. The next ten smacks are heavenly, the pain gets lost in the pleasure and at that point I didn’t know which was which. My back was arched by then, waiting, begging for the next smack, except it didn’t come. Instead Peter starts to rub my ass roughly and the pain of it felt amazing causing me to rub my ass back into his hands, moaning wantonly , it made him chuckle.

“There’s a good boy” Peter then moved one hand around to my front and grasped my achingly hard cock. “mmmmmm, should I let you come Stiles?”

“YES! , peter …Please…p-please” chuckling again Peter squeezed my cock just to the point of pain and then thankfully began to stroke me in quick rough movements. It didn’t take long , he brought his other hand around from the other side so he was completely blanketing my back with his front, and used that hand to circle the sensitive head of my dick with his palm and then I was lost to sensation and was coming hard. Stars exploded behind my eyes and I shouted out my pleasure as I painted the wall with my cum. Afterwards I simply collapsed and if it weren’t for Peter I would have fallen to the floor, but he simply picked me up , bride style, and carried me to the couch.

I should have been angry, scared , ashamed, except I wasn’t. Lying there in Peter’s arms as he stroked my hair gently in complete contrast to his earlier harsh spanking, I felt grounded like I hadn’t felt in a long time. I felt like myself, I may have changed a great deal from who I was before , but at that moment I didn’t care. I fell asleep there and when I woke up I was still on the couch only this time alone, I was clean and fully dressed, the only evidence of the night before being the slight throbbing of my ass. Still feeling better than I had in a while, I made my way home and it wasn’t until I was getting changed that I found the note.

_Stiles,_

_I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night, be ready._

_-p_

Reading it I had felt a jumble of emotions, the main one though was relief.

That was almost 2 months ago now, he’s visited me a number of times since then , he’s spanked me a few times (not always using his hand), he once kept me on the edge of coming for hours until my cock was so sensitive even a light breeze was painful, he’s taught me how not to gag while he makes me take his impressively wide and long cock down my throat, and the last time he was here he tied me spread eagled on my bed on my stomach and  flogged me until my back and ass were bright red and burning. He’s never fucked me, in fact he’s never even touched my asshole, and at this point I’m starting to crave it, maybe that’s why he hasn’t yet.

 It’s not long after I have these thoughts that I hear the window opening. My body begins to thrum with nervous energy and I can _feel_ his eyes raking over me causing me to break out in goose bumps. He walks around me then, inspecting me, making sure my position is perfect, I try to even my breathing even though I know he’ll be able to smell my fear regardless.

“I didn’t appreciate that today Stiles” I close my eyes in despair at my stupidity, listening to his heavy footsteps as he continues to circle me, breathing in his musky, spicy scent. 

“I thought we were passed the sarcastic snide comments” He was right, we were well beyond that, it was no longer my place to speak back to him like I used to, but I was angry, I needed him, I was getting desperate. I felt abandoned.

“Do you know why I haven’t visited you in so long?” I’ve been trying to guess why that was and the most likely reason I could come up with was that he was bored of me, that he no longer wanted to do what we do, and the thought, like it did when it first come to me, makes my chest seize in panic.

“In our last scene, I flogged you hard, it was your first flogging, you needed time to recover” Gasping in a much needed breath, and blinking the spots from my vision my mind reels. Thinking about how painful it was to move around for the couple of days after our last session and about the still faint bruises on my back his reason makes sense.

“I was hoping we were making progress, that you were beginning to trust me, but obviously that is not the case, tell me Stiles what did you think? Did you think I had abandoned you?” Shocked by how well he could read me, I forgot myself and my head snaps up to look at him.

“Eyes to the floor!” Quickly going back into position, I begin to pant. After a short pause he begins to circle me again.

“I’m not so much as angry at you behaviour , but at what your behaviour tells me , your aim was to provoke me into coming here , if you needed me you have my number why not simply call me?” The thought never occurred to me, not once. I think about our visits and how he looks after me after our scenes and I begin to feel guilty, why _hadn’t_ I simply called him?

“I don’t appreciate you attempt to… top from the bottom as they say, now I have to punish you, and Stiles…you’re not going to like it” There’s been times, usually at the beginning of our scenes, where I think I hate what’s being done to me, but that always goes away and quickly turns into pleasure. I have a feeling that’s not what’s going to happen here.

“Get up, bend over the bed, ass out, back arched, arms crossed on your lower back not touching your ass.”  I quickly comply to his barked orders, missing his touch. Usually by now he’s at least stroked my hair , or my back , or my neck …in fact he’s always touching me like that, calming me down before a scene and its absence now is blindingly obvious. Heart sinking with the realisation of how angry he must be at me, I try to perfect my position to the best of my ability hoping to get the praise he’s usually so quick to give out. This time I don’t get it. I hear him moving behind me, then the sound of a zipper, I try to strain my neck to see what he’s doing and spot him rummaging in a backpack he must have brought with him. I see him bring out a pair of latex gloves and something in a plastic bag, I wonder-

“Forehead and eyes to the mattress boy!” Jumping at the raised voice I quickly move my head from its previous potion on its side and face it to the mattress so all I can see is the blue colour of my sheet. Not liking this new, distant, cold Peter, my fear begins to build again almost to the point of terror.

“This is a lesson boy, I’m punishing you for attempting to manipulate me, when if you needed me you should have simply asked , understand?” his voice is harsh and it makes me realise with a start how no matter the pain he’s dished out to me before he’s always been almost…caring. Not having that now leaves me trembling and cold. I want that Peter back and if that means, withstanding his punishment then so be it.

“Yes, Peter” Despite my new resolve, my voice doesn’t sound like my own, it’s quiet and meek. I hear a swishing noise then and my body tenses.

“You’ll get five strikes from this cane, if you move from the position at any point we start back at the beginning, count each one aloud” He’s never used a cane on me before so I have no idea what to expect but five strikes can’t be that bad, I try to loosen my limbs knowing it will hurt less if I do.

For a couple of moments I can hear nothing but my heavy panting and then I hear the swish of the cane and _thwack_ of its impact. I scream. The pain is blinding and immense, it feels like I’ve been cut with a knife and I would be surprised if it didn’t break the skin. Gasping and using everything I have in me to stay in position and not move my hands to protect my ass I realise what Peter is waiting for.

“One” As soon as the word has left my lips I hear the second swish of the cane and soon after that the sound of it impacting my ass, lower than the last one. Knowing what to expect this time doesn’t help and I scream again, digging my toes into the soft carpet beneath me attempting to ground myself. This is different from a spanking and a flogger not just because of the amount of pain it causes but because of how it doesn’t dissipate into a burn like those, it simply continues to throb and sting. There’s no relief with these, and the pain is more concentrated, I don’t know how I’m supposed to take three more of them without moving, especially without Peter’s gentle encouragement.

“Two” I can’t help but tense when I hear the next one and this time I can’t even scream, it gets clogged in my throat as I try to work through the mind-numbing pain, eventually the scream comes out as a ragged sob and I start to cry and gasp. I don’t however move from my position. Thankful I have a small reprieve as Peter waits for me to count, thinking maybe that’s why he’s making me do it , I try to calm my breathing a little and unclench my muscles to make the next one not as painful.

“Three” He seems to be working from the middle of my ass down because the next one is on the bottom of my ass, not tensing helped with the pain a little, but that’s not saying much in this case. I release a loud agonised shout and I have to work to lock my knees when they threaten to give out. This time I know he’s broken the skin because I can feel liquid running down my thigh.  Knowing I only have one more left I get myself as calm as I can, but don’t waste too much time before  giving him the next number.

“Four” I should have realised with him running out of space on my ass where the next hit was coming, but I didn’t not until the cane made contact with the tops of my thighs. Chocking and gasping with the agony, I _wail_   into the sheet below me , and this time my knees do give out and they land on the floor with a heavy thud.

When I become more aware I can feel Peter patting at the fourth cane mark with something cool and soft, he then gently rubs in some ointment into all of the welts causing them to sting anew but at that point I can’t do much more than whimper a little.

“I’m just going to bandage the one welt that broke the skin then we can move on to the second and last part of your punishment.” Oh god, isn’t this enough? I begin to cry again, heaving, wracking sobs that take my breath. I feel Peter hand on my back then, rubbing in soothing circles.

“Shush now, you’ve been such a good boy taking you canning, now you’re going take the next part just as well, and then it will be over and all will be forgiven” Hearing _this_ Peter , _My_ Peter, back helps calm me down and I get my breathing under control.

“Good, Now back into your previous position… mmmm widen your legs a little more…good” Wanting nothing more than for this to be over, I wait, bent over with my legs wide apart, having no clue what he has planned next and hoping it’s no more spanking because I really don’t think my ass can take it.

I hear a cap being popped and soon after, with no warning, Peter shoves a slick finger into my asshole. I yelp at the strange burning sensation it feel so… foreign, he moves his finger around a little and I whimper at the unpleasant feeling. He doesn’t do this for long however and he soon pulls his finger out and I can’t help my small sigh of relief. It’s short lived however because I can soon feel him pressing something at my opening, it’s wider than his finger but not by much, he still has trouble getting it in though because I can’t help but clench. He twists it at my entrance and I suddenly miss his finger.

“Open up Stiles or I’ll simply shove it in” I take a deep breath and try to relax and it finally pops in, it’s definitely longer than a finger. The fullness is weird but it’s smaller than I thought it was so it’s not terribly uncomfortable just …strange and a little warm. Peter, who had moved away from me after inserting it, comes back with some rope and ties my hands together at my lower back.

“What I just put in you is a ginger root, it’s going to feel increasing warm until it becomes an intense burning sensation, I want you to know it may feel like it’s burning your flesh into blisters but it’s not, it’s simply a chemical reaction, once it reaches its apex of burning it will last for about half an hour, you will take it for the whole of that period.” My eyes widen and I gasp in surprise, and I realise that it _is_ starting to get warmer, in fact it now feels hot.  While I’m still reeling over this, Peter also ties my legs, one to the leg of the top of the bed and the other leg to the bottom leg, it completely immobilizes me.

“You have permission to squirm as much as you like, which you definitely will, don’t worry your bonds will keep you in position” He sound positively evil, I don’t have long to ponder that though because the burning starts to get intense and I start to move my hips to try to lessen the burn a little, these movements cause me to clench, and all of a sudden the burning is immense and blinding and I cry out.

“Oh and by the way clenching will make it worse” OH God, the fiery burn continues to grow and it really does feel like it’s hot enough to be damaging and blistering my insides. I do my best to unclench, but by then the damage is done and the burning doesn’t lessen. I begin to groan and whimper continuously, shifting my lower body as much as I’m able trying to think of anything but the agony in my ass. But it’s no use, it consumes me and I’m soon crying into the sheet again _praying_ that the half hour will be over soon.

After a length of time that feels like eons, the burn begins to diminish. By the time its back to simply feeling hot Peter is at my side stroking my sweaty back with one hand and untying my wrist with the other.

“Good Boy Stiles, you were such a good boy for me, no more punishment now … it’s all done” As he crones to me, he completely unties me and rubs my wrists and ankles to help get rid of the slight pins and needles.

“Lie down on your stomach on the bed baby, I’m going to get some more cream to put on your welts and bruises and get some pain meds for you” Doing as he says, I relax on the bed and close my eyes, my mind wonderfully blank. Eventually he comes back and he rubs the cream in as gently as possible and makes me take some pills. After making sure I drink a whole bottle of water, Peter then lies down on his side facing me, mindlessly drawing patterns on my lower back.

“From now on, if you need me, you call me” feeling something loosen inside me I give him a slight smile.

“Yes Peter”

“No more manipulating” I move closer to him so I’m snuggling up to his side with my head resting on his shoulder.

“I promise” moving his free hand, the one that’s not still stroking my back, Peter runs his fingers through my hair until I fall asleep.

 

 


End file.
